The Rose
by SwimmingInStawberryPie
Summary: A spoiled princess runs from her castle only to fall into the hands of destiny, and to realize that karma's a witch. A Beauty and the Beast retelling.  My first story!
1. The Rose

_Hey guys, this is my first time posting (or writing, really) anything. I'll appreciate all comments & constructive criticism. I know this isn't my best work, but It is a goal of mine to get good, so critique away! Hopefully, if you're still reading this, you can see my progression as the story goes on. _

One: The Rose

The willow and the duck were conversing one late summer afternoon in that way that only such creatures can converse.

"There must be at least fifteen unhappy moments for each happy one," Announced the duck, who was a very pessimistic creature. The duck looked toward the weeping figure under the willow.

"If your concerned for the girl," the willow replied, "I would not pity her. I can sense she is hungry, yes, but not the most compassionate of girls."

"Poppycocks! She's balling her eyes out! She must feel retched!" The duck examined the figure, "That girl looks harmless."

The little left over baby fat denied the girl any age over seventeen. Her hair was a dark red, almost auburn, which matched the sprinkling of freckles on her nose. Her eyes were a very large gray, blue, or green depending on the light (though reddish right now, what from all that crying). Her figure was satisfying, although she was shorter then most. Her skin, however, was what made her truly beautiful. It was all cream and roses, no scars and no birth marks, no deformities of any sort. Just soft, smooth, creamy skin.

"You are neither as old nor as wise as me, Duck. I can sense things that you cannot. She is a deceitful, self centered person," The willow, however old, was not as wise as it fancied. It hadn't realized that all willows were exactly the same. Willows are the nobility of empathy. The poor willow hadn't had any other willows planted near it to realize what wisdom truly means.

"How can you judge someone like that? She has done nothing to you!" The duck was a very stubborn creature.

"Humph!" So was the willow, "Well, for one thing, her buttocks are crushing my roots! In all actuality, though, I can just sense that she is feeling something that is selfish, immoral, determined, mischievous. I am a mess fretting over what she might to do me and to _you_," The willow was a well known neurotic.

"I am not go-" The duck was cut short. The door of the little cottage was creaking open, and the little old widow was stepping out. Both the duck and the willow adored her, she always gave the duck bits of bread and cheese.

The widow was hobbling toward the willow, her eyebrows furrowed and her smile sincere. She didn't have any bread _or _cheese. She crouched over the weeping figure and put her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Oh, dear," said the widow, "come with me and we'll get you a nice cup of tea and something to eat. Right out of the oven. You can explain everything to old Edna after you get something in that flat stomach of yours."

It wasn't till after the two went inside that the duck and the willow figured it out.

"Ha!" Gloated the willow (If it had a nose, it would have been pointed towards the heavens), "I knew it! Now, who got it right?"

The duck muttered something unintelligible.

The widow opened the window, poked her head out, and shushed them.

The one-room cottage was small and plain. There was another door, exactly like the first one, on the opposite end. The floors and walls were made of the same thing-decaying cedar. There was a small shabby bed in one corner covered by a fraying quilt. On the other side of the room, a small kitchen included three cupboards, an oven, a fireplace and spit, two counters, and a large collection of knives. A small two-person table was in the middle of the room. The table had a single rose carved on it.

All this was average and to be expected. What Tevora didn't expect, though, was the absolute silence. When she looked out the window onto the pond (which looked more like a swamp to her, ugly thing), she saw a frog's vocal sac inflate but could not hear any croaking. _How Odd _Tevora thought.

Tevora pushed it out of her mind, she could not let something so trifling distract her from her intentions.

She put on her big doe eyes (Tevora thought this made her look irresistible, but really she already had big doe eyes, so doing this made her look creepy. Extremely creepy, since they were bloodshot from all that fake crying.), and turned to the old woman, who was placing some food on the table.

"I've been searching for hours for food and help, you see my parents passed away from disease a few days ago and my little brother-oh he _is _very small- he has it now and I left him a half mile away in a cave and we really nee-" Tevora was cut off. She was a little t'd off, too. She had a beautiful performance planned that would have the widow begging for an encore.

"Now you start to eat up, I think I might have some herbs in my garden that, with a little hot water, will make your poor brother right as rain," She waddled off toward the back door.

_Well, that was easy. _When the coast was clear, Tevora sprung into action. She pulled out the sack that she hid in her cleavage in one motion. She grabbed the food that was on the table (_Ooooh, nummy yummers, baked apple)_ and shoved it into the sack, then headed toward the cupboards. When the sack was filled up she quietly snuck out, leaving the cupboards half full.

Tevora could hear a squawking duck siren behind her, but kept running strait ahead. Her heart, head, stomach, even her feet hurt (_Why hadn't I taken more sensible shoes? Oh. Right. These are my simply divine _Gorna Rays _from her_ _spring collection_).

A quarter of an hour later, the widow returned with herbs and a basket full of fruit. She walked very briskly, much unlike herself, up to her cottage where she peaked inside.

"Disappointing... _dis_appointing," She whispered, walking up to her set of knives. She chose the one with the carved rose, looked it over twice, ran her wrinkled finger down the blade three times, and tapped it _tap...tap...tap...tap... _on the counter.

She then turned on her heal abruptly. She strolled out the door, past the duck and the willow, and paused in front of the rose bush.

The whole world seemed to stop as the old lady's eyes darted from one rose to another, carefully analyzing each thorn, stem, and petal of each rose. Her pupils contracted and expanded in rhythm. Her nostrils flared in rhythm to her pupils. She panted in rhythm to her nostrils. She stopped.

It was a rose as red as blood itself. It was acutely proportional, with a leaf on either side. It was not quite yet at its prime, the petals being only part way open. Even the due drops of early morning added to its beauty.

She cut it off. She went back inside. She set it on the rose carved table.

The world went on.


	2. A Surprising Discovery

Two: A Surprising Discovery

To his surprise, Celix found himself excited about today's prospects. They had an order in for a few keys. Celix liked making keys. His fingers were clumsy and inaccurate; they were challenging to work with. Celix always enjoyed challenges.

For the first seven of the eight years that he had been practicing blacksmithing, he had been an apprentice to his father. The first few years were spent shuffling charcoal, but with time, he began to gain his father's trust. With trust came responsibilities, and those responsibilities included making reliable and good quality products. A fort night proved that he had no skill whatsoever, and Celix quickly lost what he had gained. For the next four years of the apprenticeship, Celix worked hard, and when the seven years were up, he had earned his title of Journeyman. Unfortunately, there were other apprentices who happened to be more attentive, more accurate, and all around better blacksmiths.

"Breakfast!" His sister, Lilly, called from the dining room.

Celix finished buckling his boots and went to the table. The aroma of eggs and bacon induced the grumbling in his stomach.

"Looks lovely, Lilly," He mumbled, kissing her on the cheek, "smells lovely, too."

Lilly rolled her green eyes, they were the exact same color as his, "You say that every morning, brother."

"I do not! Yesterday I said, 'Those muffins look too good and too tempting for me, Lilly, I'll eat the old bread instead.' That is entirely different." His sister could not quite pick up on what her brother was talking about, everything sounded like 'Thes mehins oo an oo emin or meh', but she smiled anyway. Celix was never fully awake till he had his morning cup o' tea.

Lilly was poring the tea into cups when their father stumbled in.

"Muhnn," Joseph Lefevre; Joe, as most who knew him called him, said good morning to his two children. Joe took a seat and drank the tea, groaning with pleasure. He was much like his son in terms of tea. He was burley, putting the hammer to the anvil had its benefits, but with age came stomach and Joe was not what he once was. Life had done to him what it does to most, chew 'em up and spit 'em out, and was made all the better for it. He had a kind face and a kinder manner. Joe always found joy and laughter in everything, and now the wrinkles around his eyes were there to stay.

"Celix," Joe started, "I'm goin' to need you to deliver some horseshoes up to the castle. You know I can't send Peter or Philip, I don't trust 'em to get the order there in good time." Celix knew that this was true, but he also knew that Joe would rather have Peter and Philip working on the keys then himself.

Celix had to agree, "I suppose I'll leave after I'm finished with breakfast, is that all right?"

"Perfect, perfect."

Lilly joined into the conversation, "Father, would it be possible to let Peter off a little early tonight? The moon is out and we wanted to have a picnic down at the pond."

"No," Celix answered.

"I was not talking to you." Lilly calmly retorted.

"Well, if Peter wants to leave a little early, then he'll ask me himself. We'll see." Her father replied.

Celix was annoyed, it was not that Peter was some sort of trouble maker, not at all. It was just that Lilly did not have to go frolicking in the daises with every bachelor from here to Frollings. "If Mother were here, she would knock some sense into you. You cannot go seeing all these men, Lilly! You're going to get hurt."

"If Mother were here, she would be giving me the same lecture you're giving me. I am not 'seeing' all these men, Celix, I just have many friends. Do not blame me for being likable when you are not. Looks are not everything."

Only the clanking of silverware could be heard.

"How many horseshoes?" Celix asked his father, breaking the silence.

* * *

"Did they want a few extras?" Celix wondered, mostly to himself rather then his father, while loading the nine full bags of horseshoes onto the carriage.

"I have heard that they have bred hundreds, white as the early mornin' snow." Joe answered anyway.

"It is to be hoped that they will be pleased with our work. More business, eh?"

Celix was lifting himself onto the carriage when he spotted a certain someone from the corner of his eye. _Just ignore her. She'll go away._

"Celix! Come here! Where are you headed?"

"Oh, hello Clarissa, I didn't see you there," _Damn. _Celix got off the carriage and walked over to the figure leaning against the fence, "You know, I really have to get going. It's about two day's drive to the castle."

Clarissa's breasts practically popped out of her dress. "Of course you could spare a few minutes saying hello!" Batting her eyelashes, Clarissa laid her hand on his arm and began to message it. "I haven't seen you in a week, darling. Have you forgotten me already?"

No, unfortunately, Celix could not, no matter how much he wanted to block out the memory, get his buttocks to forget about those hands. He did not know quite what to do, "Er, I really should head out," He brushed her hand off and, waving, got back on the carriage.

She pouted, "I'll be here when you get back," She then left to torture another helpless sole.

Celix took hold of the reins and started on his way.

* * *

The change of scenery was refreshing to Celix, it would be to any young man who did not get away often. He enjoyed the independence, the variety of people traveling on the roads, and the cheap inn's unfamiliar sent. The trip to the castle was so pleasant, that the little trouble the marshal gave him did not tarnish his mood.

"Are you sure that there are two hundred and seventy-three horseshoes exactly? Have you counted them all out?" He demanded. The marshal was a small, pudgy little man with pudgy little fingers, which were only used to form a checking motion with quill and ink. His beady little eyes were darting all over the place. If haven forbid, something where to happen, such as a single blade of grass being taller then the rest, he would have an anxiety attack, right then and there.

Celix felt sorry for the man, and tried to calm him down. "I'm sure. I didn't count them myself, but I wouldn't thi-"

The marshal's voice went up and octave, "Not, not _count _them! Oh, heavens, no. You- How could- Why-" For a moment, the marshal's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and Celix thought he was going to faint. Then the marshal's head started to shake, then his hand, his belly, his pudgy baby toe. It lasted but three seconds, then he snapped out of the craze, and acted as if nothing had happened.

"Well, the servant girls will have to count them, then. Bring the horseshoes. Not count them indeed..." The marshal began to waddle off.

Celix got onto the carriage.

"With_out _the cart!"

Celix was pleased with himself when he carried all nine bags in three trips to the stables. The servant girls could be no more then Lilly's age, sixteen, and were just as flirtatious. He could not tell if one girl was being serious or not.

"Oh, Sir, you look like a smart fellow. I'm in a bit of a situation. I do not know what number comes after twenty-one!" Her eyebrows were in a quizzical frown.

"Twenty-two you dimwit!" Another girl whispered, so only Celix could hear, "I'm sorry about her, she is not the most discreet a person." The girl had warm brown eyes and brown hair. She seemed a bit saucy.

"Oh, really, I hadn't noticed. What does come after twenty-one? I haven't the slightest idea," He chuckled, "I'm Celix, by the way."

"Alida."

They worked for ten minutes, and in the end there were the two hundred and seventy-three horseshoes, just as ordered.

The marshal approached him by his carriage, "Next time, count," and waddled off again.

Celix was relieved to leave the palace, to go back to a familiar place. He traveled till night fell, and stopped at the same inn as before. He went to the back of the carriage to find his personal belongings, but found someone else instead.


End file.
